


Warrior Cornflower

by lostinthegoldenpines



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: AU where Cornflower is Warrior of Redwall, Gen, Redwall - Freeform, Redwall AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 10:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20813900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthegoldenpines/pseuds/lostinthegoldenpines
Summary: The ever peaceful Lady Cornflower is clever and resourceful despite her young age, and so far has been making a fine Champion of Redwall, yet she has never known anything but peace, and intends to keep it that way. However, that ideal may be lost when Cluny the Scurge rolls into Mossflower Woods...





	1. Chapter 1

Soft clouds lazily rolled across the azure sky, hardly at all what they had been last night. Dew and lingering raindrops beaded on the soft green moss covered forest floor and trees of Mossflower Woods, giving the already beautiful forest a even lusher, greener carpet. Tying her soft yellow kerchief around her head, pausing to poke her ears through the holes, Cornflower hummed a little sigh. How she desperately wished to be back within the Abbey walls. Stretching until her back popped, Cornflower wrapped the soft belt around her waist, straightening out her peach colored tunic.

“How did you sleep last night young Cornflower?” Jess Squirrel asked as she poked her head out from the drey nest above in the large forks of the beech tree above Cornflower’s tent. Droplets of water fell from the shaking of branches onto Cornflower’s face. She brushed them away, straightening out her whiskers.

“Very well actually. The new sleeping bag Constance sent along kept me dry all night. I rather enjoy the sound of rain, and was out like a light.” Cornflower replied cheerfully, secretly wishing she had time for tea. Lots of it. But they quickly broke camp, munching on oat farls and juicy apples, whetted by soft yellow cheese studded with hazelnuts. Hoisting her pack over her shoulders, Cornflower searched for Sam. “Where is your little one?”

“He’s gone off to find his papa. I’ll escort you back to Redwall Abbey, though I hardly doubt a warrior such as yourself needs protection of a squirrel mum.”

“That’s not true and you know it!” Cornflower laughed, recalling their dealings with Farlo the Spice Trader. “Had it not been for you, I think I would have been cheated on the prices. You drive a hard bargain, I was impressed.”

“When you’re a mom, you have to be tough as nails.” Jess chuckled, her bushy tail flicking out with each laugh. Cornflower giggled, pausing only when she finally caught the sight of the towering red bell tower in the distance.

“Oh,” She gasped, nostalgia and longing drowning her soul as she gazed upon the red bricks, with their Virginia Creepers and summer red roses crawling across the wondrous red bricked abbey walls. “Oh it’s home. Oh Jess I missed it so much.”

“You were born to be a homebody, weren’t you?” Jess said fondly. There was no judgement or reprimand to her voice. Just a kind, honest observation. With a sigh of relief, Cornflower nodded in agreement, noticing her name sake growing by her footpaw. She wanted to stop to pick them. She wanted to craft them into flower crowns and bracelets. For herself, and the shy, bumbling, sweet kitchen mouse she met last year. But she didn’t quite feel she was allowed to. With the weight of Martin’s sword upon her back, she moved forward, her tail lightly flicking the flower petals as she passed.

“Perhaps, but a warrior all the same.” Cornflower murmured, her eyes not leaving the Abbey. She had been born with a legacy to continue. Her reign of Abbey Warrior had been peaceful so far, and she hoped it stayed that way.

“Do you regret discovering the riddle and the sword?” Jess asked, leaning down to pluck the wild cornflower and tucking it under Cornflower’s kerchief.

“No. I am more than pleased to defend the Abbey, and I’m honored to carry Martin’s sword. I’m just wondering if perhaps I was the correct choice? That’s all.”

“Would you rather be a cook?”

Cornflower made a face that made Jess laugh. “Can you imagine me baking anything? Friar Hugo would have me flung into the pond.”

As they traveled the open road to the Abbey, Cornflower couldn’t help but feel eyes watching them. Jess confirmed her thoughts and they fell into a watchful silence. Yet the eyes never made themselves known. By the time Cornflower was greeted at the gate, she couldn’t help but feel as if something horrible was amiss. Yet she was promised all was well, and was ushered inside where the hustle and bustle preparing for the Abbot Mortimer’s Jubilee Feast was underway.

“The Warrior is back!”

“Warrior Cornflower has returned!”

“Did you slay any villains?”

“Haha, goodness no, no villains would dare mess with Warrior Cornflower!”

“I should hope not,” Cornflower chuckled, tugging at her pack’s shoulder straps. “I am carrying the Abbot’s favorite spices after all. I wouldn’t want to explain to the Abbot how his precious jar of nutmeg wound up in the ear of a bandit.”

The crowd that had gathered around her laughed and slapped her on the back. She finally managed to wiggle her way out of the crowd and went off to find Abbot Mortimer. Children ran around the Abbey grounds with baskets for berry and mushroom picking. From open windows in the kitchen, mouth-watering smells wafted out, along with the tittering and bustling of Friar Hugo. Turning the corner, Cornflower stopped quickly hiding to watch as Matthias run across the grounds, his large sandals causing him to trip constantly. In his paws he carried a large basket of hazelnuts. Blushing briefly, her smile turned into a alarmed frown as Matthias tripped, sprawling face first on the grass, the hazelnuts scattering to the ground. She moved to help him when Abbot Mortimer appeared.

“I tripped on my abbot, Habit. O-oh dear—” Cornflower heard Matthias babbling as he scrambled to collect the hazelnuts. She bit back a smile as she listened to him explain how so desperately he wanted to be like Martin, and like her. The Abbot groaned and began to usher poor Matthias indoors, no doubt to take a look at the tapestry. She had experienced that talk herself. She emerged out from her hiding space, nonchalantly following the Abbot’s and his adopted son’s path. She paused to collect all the hazelnuts, taking the basket with her. She could guess the conversation. Matthias would explain his dream to defend the Abbey, to be strong like Martin. Abbot Mortimer would explain how even Martin hung up his sword for peaceful times. Then he would mention how he did not approve of Cornflower being the Abbot Warrior and how he wished she had never found the riddle or sword. She popped a nut into her mouth to suck on. She wandered at her own pace, knowing that Martin’s gentle eyes would be watching and waiting for her return, much like a dotting father. The sun spilling through the windows captured golden dust motes dancing in the air, torches lit all day and night to offer visibility no matter the hour of day or the condition of weather. She heard their voices echoing across the sand brick walls. With all the tact one who was weary from travel could muster, Cornflower made her entrance into the room.

Both mice turned to gaze at her. Abbot Mortimer’s was a gaze soften by love and hardened by frustration. He as disappointed she was the warrior. He disapproved of the very concept of any beast being trained in the art of war. He most certainly despised Matthias’s adoration for her, for he feared it would get his adopted son killed. Yet she knew that this was not aimed at her but at Martin himself. She was merely the vessel. Matthias, on the other paw…his face was open like a book. He looked as if he was full of adoration, respect, and perhaps something else? Cornflower tried not to read too much into his blushing face as she approached, hoping her own blush was not visible.

“Hello Matthias, Hello Father Abbot,” Cornflower gave a nod of her head to each, placing the basket down to open up her pack. She pulled out a carefully wrapped ceramic pot. “I found Farlo just as you said. He said this is the best of nutmegs to offer you.”

“Oh splendid!” Abbot Moritimor beamed, taking the pot carefully. “Thank you Cornflower for going. When I found out that we were out of nutmeg before the feast—”

“Not at all Father Abbot, I was delighted to make the trip. How as all fared since I’ve been away?”

“Peaceful and serene as always.”

A hazelnut fell from the basket to the floor. The Abbot’s whiskers twitched slightly. Both Matthias and Cornflower reached to pick it up, their fingers grazing. They held each other’s gaze before their eyes landed on the nut. It was shaped perfectly like a round butt. Matthias’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Cornflower clamped her paw tightly over her mouth, but Matthias’s laugh pealed out in the room. She started giggling too.

“What’s so funny you two?” Abbot Mortimer asked wearily. Before either could answer, Constance leaned in to the room, a squirming mole babe tucked under one arm, a fishing net in the other.

“Ah! Cornflower, there you are lass! Brother Alf is looking for you. It’s time to go fishing.”

Cornflower couldn’t help herself; she made a face of absolute disgust. She hated fishing with every fiber of her being. The long waiting, the biting gnats, the hot beating of the June sun, and then the struggle to bring in the fish. Watching a creature fighting for its own right to live. The gutting of the fish. The taste. No matter how Friar Hugo simmered it in sauces, grilled it, filleted it, Cornflower hated the taste of fish. She glanced at Matthias, whose eyes were beaming, as if he wanted to do the dreadful task. Oh. Oh.

“Constance, I’m feeling rather tired and a bit sleep deprived; perhaps Matthias could go in my place?” Cornflower lied. Well, it wasn’t completely a lie. She did feel tired. Matthias looked as if his soul had left his body, as did the Abbot. Constance gave Cornflower a pointed look and then grunted her agreement.

“C’monalong Matthias,” Constance ordered, shifting the mole babe under her embrace. “Let’s get you set up with a fishing pole.”

“May I truly, Lady Cornflower?” Matthias spun to clasp her paws in his.

“Of course! I’ll take the hazelbutts—hazelnuts to the kitchen and then see where else I’m needed.” Cornflower hastened away with the basket, wishing she could drown herself. “See you all later! Good luck Matthias!”

Perhaps if she was lucky, she could hide in Methuselah’s gatehouse and never have to leave.


	2. About Fish and Rats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a ill Cornflower is faced with the starting of her nightmares...

Cornflower stood in the corner of the orchard far away from the berry patches and fruit trees, upheaving her dinner.

Grayling…of all things, he had to catch grayling. Cornflower held a rag to her mouth with one paw, leaning up against the red bricked wall with the other. Matthias had looked so pleased with himself, how on earth could she refuse the large plate he offered, especially in front of the Churchmouse twins Tim and Tess? She was expected to set a good example for the little ones, which was the one thing she found unreasonable about being a Warrior of Redwall. Plus Matthias had looked so cute…

Her stomach gurgled and she groaned.

“Poor thing. You held on like a champ for awhile there. Here, I’ve brought you some water, and medicinal tea.”

Cornflower slowly turned to see Abbot Mortimer approaching.

“Thank you, Father Abbot,” She said weakly, accepting the water first, rinsing out her mouth. “Matthias doesn’t know, does he?”

“No. I assured him you were off assisting with some chore or another. It was very kind of you to eat the grayling.”

“Please don’t even say that word, Father.” Cornflower turned and leaned her forehead up against the wall, nausea consuming her again. She heard the Father’s footsteps backtrack for a bit while she was retching. When he returned he, had a wet kerchief dunked into the pond. He dabbed at her face with it and then placed it behind her neck.

“I am so sorry my child. Would you like to sit down?”

Nodding miserably, Cornflower allowed herself to be escorted away. She was sat under a rather large apple tree, a light breeze swaying the branches gently overhead. Numbly she took the tea, blankly staring ahead, willing herself to be calm like the mossy ground beneath her.

“I haven’t been very fair to you lately, Cornflower, and I’d like to apologize for that.” the Abbot said as he settled down next to her.

Surprised, Cornflower arched an eyebrow.

“I’ve been rather—distant, since you officially took up the sword and mantel of Martin. I was proud of you to be sure, but distant. I think I’ve just been so afraid of what-ifs. If war loving villains were to come after you and the Abbey for the famed sword. It’s kept me up at night with sickening nightmares. The thought of losing you or anyone in this Abbey…I felt very angry at Martin for placing such a burden upon you.”

Cornflower listened respectfully as the old Abbot looked up at the night sky, watching clouds swirl across the dark horizon, a random twinkling here or there of stars calling down to the earth below. When he had been silent for some time, Cornflower reached out, gently touching her paw to his arm.

“I understand, Father Abbot, and I appreciate it, and I am so terribly sorry you’ve had nightmares. I must admit, I do not wish for adventure but only peace for all those in Mossflower. I truly hope I never have to use the sword in battle. It’s a great responsibility that I take very seriously.”

“I believe that is why Martin chose you my dear,” Abbot Mortimer replied with a sad smile, patting her gently on the head. “How are you feeling? Well enough to stand?”

There was a pounding of footsteps and Winifred whipped around to their tree, her blue eyes large.

“Father Abbot, Lady Warrior, there’s three rats at our doors demanding to speak with you.”

Abbot Mortimer and Cornflower eyed each other uneasily.

“I pray that your nightmares are not coming true, Father Abbot.” Cornflower finally said, getting up on shaking knees, cursing that rats would appear on the night she dared to eat fish. Where is my sword?

“I will not judge them for being rats. Let us see what their business is with us. Er, would either of you mind helping an old mouse to his feet?”

“Of course, Father Abbot. Look out going that way you two, some idiot beast vomited all over the ground”

“Thank you Winifred,” Cornflower briskly marched away, paw on her queasy stomach. “Perhaps if the rats mean us trouble, the idiot beast can vomit on them.”


	3. Whirlwind

These rats were daring to read off a list of demands that promised death and enslavement. Cluny the Scourge was grinning wickedly, his barbed tail whipping round behind him like a child who had found the candied hazelnuts. He was dressed in a cloak made of bat wings dyed purple, a skeleton on his head for a helmet, weird horns protruding from the poor bones. The other two rats were dressed in tattered clothing and smelled of sea salt and crusted mud. They sneered their rotted fangs at the poor creatures in the room who were too horrified to move. Well, Cornflower wasn’t going to stand for it one bit, no matter how terrible she was feeling. She felt dizzy and nauseated yet she stormed over on shaking legs towards the tapestry. Under Martin’s watchful likeness, the sword hung by two shiny silver hooks. She yanked the sword down, whipping around and striding back to the one called Dark Claw.

Cornflower my daughter. Defend the Abbey. She heard Martin’s calm voice whisper through her mind like a fevered song. With a fluid flick of her wrist, she had unscathed the sword, the tip of the deadly blade tearing through the list of demands, slicing some of Dark Claw’s whiskers.

“Now you listen to me, villains, I will not stand to hear your threats of enslavement and death within the sanctity of Redwall nor within the forest of Mossflower. You will leave this Abbey at once and you will clear out of this land or I will end you here and now.” Cornflower snarled, Martin’s voice and her blood boiling together into a mad song. She felt the room was spinning. She felt the only way to stop it was to run Cluny through here and now. She took a step forward and pointed the sword at him.

“Cornflower! Don’t!” Abbot Mortimer bellowed in horror.

“Who is that mouse?” Cluny asked, his one good eye shimmering as if it were in a trance. Cornflower felt bitter, as she followed his line of sight, that he was not intimidated by her in the slightest, but rather in fact had fallen transfixed by Martin’s stare. She could tell that Martin’s stare had changed. It was a warm, loving stare when around her and other Redwallers and woodlanders and those who meant well to the creatures of the Abbey. But towards Cluny? It was a stare of pure resentment, promising madness and righteous death. The madness seemed to be seeping into Cornflower.

Strike him now, Cornflower. She heard Martin urging. She could hear Matthias proudly but shrilly explain who Martin was, how if he was here today, that Martin would chop up Cluny. Well, Matthias. It wouldn’t be Martin chopping up Cluny today. The brilliant sword shone like a blizzard’s cold breath, the pale moonlight filtering through the glass windows and bouncing off the blade as Cornflower leapt forward, her sword ready to pierce through the disgusting villain before her. Cluny saw her movements even before the Abbot cried out for her to cease. Cluny’s golden eye locked with her brown ones and it felt like time had slowed down. She watched as he grabbed the smaller, thinner rat, who had been picking at earwax, yanking him in front of Cluny’s body as a shield. She couldn’t stop nor could she side step her path, for she felt dizzy and the pounding of Martin’s urging and the cries of those in the room were like fire to her brain. Cluny had leapt away, and the deadly sword was now lodged within the small rat. She could at least grant him a painless death.

“Sorry,” Cornflower muttered, slicing up with the sword and instantly splitting him. The rat looked as if he had no idea what had happened as his body fell to the floor.

Blood sprayed around the room, splattering to the gray sandstone floors, all over Cornflower, and flecks landing on the beloved tapestry. She looked up and saw blood splattering Matthias’s green habit. The sight of one so wonderful, so innocent, so delightful, covered in blood made vomit fill her mouth. She turned and retched, and continued to do so.

Cluny’s claws scrapped the floor and she knew he was going to kill her.

“GET OUT OF HERE, RAT!” Constance’s mighty and great roar shook the room. To the awe of all, she hefted a large and heavy wooden table that clearly beloved in Cavern Hole, over her body. “LEAVE! BEFORE I TURN YOUR SKULL TO SKITTLES.”

“I will have my revenge!” Cluny snarled. Both Dark Claw and Cluny ran for their lives as Constance flung the table at their vanishing forms. The table splinted and shattered. It felt as if the table had been dropped upon her own skull. Cornflower saw stars explode before her eyes and promptly fainted, clutching the sword tightly in paws. She knew something worse was going to happen.

I’m so sorry, Martin. She thought as she tried to fight against the blackness. She felt a warm and calming paw pat her head.

“Martin,” She mumbled before passing out.

***

Cornflower. They’ve taken me.

With a gasp Cornflower sat up, tears streaming down her face. Martin had been crying out to her and she hadn’t responded. She swung her feet off the bed when she stopped. She was in the infirmary. A cold compress had been tied to her forehead. But what was far more troubling was the two figures in the beds next to hers. Right next to her was Matthias. His skull was wrapped up in bandages, his left eye swollen shut. Further from her was her mother, sobbing over a still form. Cornflower felt light headed as she stood up, looking.

“Father?” She whispered. Her mother put a paw to her mouth and looked up. “Mother, what’s happening?”

“Your father and Matthias will be okay.” Her mother said briskly, quickly wiping away the tears from her face. Her mother was the ever kind yet strict infirmary head nurse. To see her openly weeping…

“What’s happened?” 

“It’s been a few hours since you fainted—”

“Passed out.” Cornflower corrected.

“Whatever.” Her mother folded her arms and the two stared at each other for a moment before her mother continued. “While you were out, a rat that was like a shadow broke in. He stole Martin from the tapestry, and your sword.”

Cornflower felt as if she had been punched in the gut.

“Your father and Matthias saw him escaping, so they tried to stop him. They chased him up to the walls. He, stabbed, your father when your father tried to wrench away Martin. Matthias tried to take the sword, but was kicked repeatedly on the head.”

Cornflower sat down, feeling numb.

Mrs. Fieldmouse quickly rounded the cots to get to her daughter, sitting next to her and placing her arm around her.

“The stabs weren’t fatal and Matthias’s head should heal within a few days.”

“I failed them, mamma.” Cornflower whispered. Tears dripped down her face. “I am the warrior of Redwall and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop any of this madness.”

“You tried. Had the Abbot not ordered you to not kill Cluny, you would have stopped it.”

“I don’t even remember an order not to. I charged ahead anyway. I spilled blood on Abbey floor and it wasn’t even the right one.” Cornflower snarled.

“You were sick still from eating fish. It takes you days to recover, usually.”

“Season! I am a fool!” Cornflower hissed angrily.

“You must fix this.”

“I—ha! Mother I don’t even know how. I have failed so epically, I’m not even sure what can be done. Martin has been kidnapped, and so has his sword!”

“You’re a warrior with or without a sword, young lady.” Mrs. Fieldmouse stood up, putting her paws on her daughter’s shoulders. “We Fieldmouse ladies are tough as they come. You will find a solution to this problem and you will find a way to protect the Abbey because not only is it what Martin expects of you, but it’s what I believe you can do.” With that, Mrs. Fieldmouse turned to gather more medicine. When she looked back, her daughter was gone from the room.


End file.
